The Hunt is On
by Zenog
Summary: A look into the inner thoughts of a rambling Kha'Zix as he (she? it?) speaks of his (her? its?) time on Runeterra, especially how dissatisfied he (she? it?) is in general with the state of things on the plane and how it compares to home. Surprisingly, actually fits in the K rating range.
1. Kha'Zix

I wrote this as a sort of character study way, way back when I first started playing League, but I never finished it. It kind of just... died out in my mind. Then, suddenly, after months of not playing and finally finding time to play a few games again, my muse suddenly comes along and says, "Hey, you should finish that League piece you were writing." So I was all, "Okay, why not?" and I just now finished writing it. I may add more later, perhaps from Rengar's side of things, but most likely this will remain a one shot. Anyway, without further aside, I give you...

* * *

 _The Hunt is On_

 _Chapter 1: Kha'Zix  
_

* * *

Runeterra. How I despise the place. It's bright and loud, so unlike the World Between. And so full of weak prey. Weak, meaningless, worthless prey. None save one ever managed to challenge me in this pitiful realm, to sate my thirst for the thrill of the hunt and hunted. Not like the beautiful creatures from the World Between.

The World Between. How I miss it. They call it the Void here in this Runeterra place, but that is not its true name. No, the closest possible translation into the tongue of this world is 'The World that Hangs in the Void Between the Planes,' but many of us that are here simply call it the World Between to save time. The beings of this world only believe that a world is real if they can see it, so since they only see a void when they gaze out of this plane, they believe we are from the Void itself. Fools, all of them. As if anything could come from the swirling mess of Chaos that exists between the Planes. If only they could see the wonders that exist just beyond their vision…

And of course, if one must talk about the world they cannot see, then they must also talk about the Voidlings. Yes, the horrendous term they use for all who come from the Void. They think that only the five of us have ever made it to their world, but there are truly countless others who remain unseen by the pitiful mortals of this world. The only reason they can see the five of us—Cho'Gath, Kha'Zix, Kog'Maw, Rek'Sai, and Vel'Koz—is because we possess enough energy to physically assert ourselves on this plane. The other, less powerful beings can only affect the mind, influencing emotion and dreams.

And the term! Voidlings! It's so… demeaning. We each have our own Xer—I suppose the closest thing to a Xer in this world is a clan, but a Xer is so much more! It is also a species, a way of life, a point of pride—But I digress. Even though we each have our own Xer they are almost never recognised by the all-powerful "Summoners" of the Higher Planes. The only one to even have her Xer recognised formally was Rek'Sai, and even then only after nearly a thousand years of her existence in this world.

Ah, and surely, one cannot talk about the Summoners without also talking about their precious little League of Legends. Pah! Some "legends" they have here... More like warriors a mere step up from a foot soldier, puppets to the Summoners. I have been summoned to twenty separate battles in their league, and fought either against or alongside nearly all of the other "champions." There are but five that I have not yet been in combat with in this… 'league'.

Although I have not fought with or against him, Malzahar I of course know from him opening a Rift with enough energy to allow me into this world—the higher energy that allows the five of us to physically manifest correlating to the need for a higher-energy Rift to transport us between worlds than the naturally-occurring ones that the lesser Xer use frequently. I have also heard hushed tales of a "Tiny Master of Evil" and a "Swift Scout," both spoken of with much hatred throughout Runeterra, though I have never met them myself. The fourth of the ones I have not battled with is another one of the Five, called "Cho'Gath, the Terror of the Void." Fools! If they truly believe that Xer'Gath are the true terrors, they should see some of the High Xer. Not even the entire Xer'Koz can hold them off for long, despite their endless knowledge.

Of course, I'm sure you are wondering who the fifth is, are you not?

Now, I say I have not fought any of the five on the battlefield of the Summoners, but I have fought the fifth one before. It was long ago, when I first manifested in this world and was new to its sensations. He is the only one on the Plane that has ever challenged me, that has made my blood sing. His name fits him, as well, for he would fit in perfectly with the honour-warriors of Xer'Gar. We met in glorious combat, and I took his eye for myself. I've been told that he has vowed vengeance on me for it, but I care not. I want to fight him again, to feel alive again.

They call him Rengar.

* * *

I gave a hiss of annoyance as I found myself torn from my hunt once again to fight for the amusement of the Summoners. It quickly morphed to a series of excited clicks as I felt the pull in the air signaling the proximity of my prey. This was much better than any hunt I could have had, and I found myself thankful to the Summoners for once.

"Kha'Zix? What ails you?"

I found Malzahar standing next to me this time, and I gave him a feral grin. "He is here, and the hunt is afoot."

"Who?" Malzahar asked, but I had dashed off towards the jungle before he could say anything.

I could faintly hear Vel'Koz reply to him: "Rengar."

* * *

I crept along through the brush, silent as a ghost. My antennae twitched slightly as I heard a soft tinkling noise behind me. I slowly turned, and saw him moving stealthily along the opposite river bank to my right, on a course to pass directly in front of my hiding place. My eyes zeroed in on the necklace he wore, and I recognised teeth from some of the most fearsome creatures on the Plane.

A grin slowly crept across my features as I crouched down and prepared to pounce on top of him. The spines on my back flexed, ready to fly into action and dig into his flesh. My wings fluttered in anticipation. Suddenly he stopped, and turned right towards my hiding spot. I found myself cursing my wings for giving away my location. He lowered himself to all fours, preparing to leap towards my hiding spot.

At some unseen signal, we both leapt towards each other. He let out a feral roar, his blade ready to whip around and skewer me mid-flight. I laughed in my high-pitched clicking fashion, relishing in the feeling of my blood pumping through my veins, the thrill of the fight. We rose to each other's challenge, and met mid-air above the stream.

The hunt was on.


	2. Rengar

I know, I know. I reeally shouldn't be doing this. I should be writing my other stories that I'm actually working on. But inspiration struck with a vengeance, and I could do nothing against its unending march in my head. So I had to finish this story. Anyway, I'm sure that most of you can guess what this is, but I'll say it anyway: Without further ado, I give you...

* * *

 _The Hunt is On_

 _Chapter 2: Rengar_

* * *

Some people think that eyepatches make you look cool. I'll admit, that's probably true, but it is beyond painful when you injure an eye to the point that you need one. Some people also think that my eyepatch is actually some magical artificial eye that lets me see in the dark, sense body heat, see through walls, walk through walls, fly, and any number of other absurd powers. I'm able to see in the dark naturally, it comes with the territory of being part-cat, and all that other stuff is just rumour taken to an extreme. It's really just an eyepatch that also glows for intimidation factor. The glow is also handy for helping me see in situations without other light.

And no, the irony of an eyepatch helping me to see is not lost on me.

Nonetheless, I'm sure those of you who don't know who I am are wondering why I even have this eyepatch. Those of you who do know me most likely know my story already, since the all-mighty Summoners seem intent on spreading the story of every 'champion' who comes to their league. Hah, as if any of them are true champions. They always feel more like… some sort of glorified foot soldier. Oh, certainly, there are the ones who have their merits, like that nutcase who fights with a lamppost, and the other one whose village was destroyed by that dishonourable coward who loves chemicals and poisons. But as a whole, they are rather… lacking. None can ever satisfy my need for the thrill of the hunt and hunted, the great dance that both man, beast, and those in between have participated in from time immemorial.

And I've gotten sidetracked again. My story, of course, is what you came for, not for me to pour out my grievances with the world onto your shoulders. And, as it is what you wish for, I shall give it to you, the story as I saw it, and as I see it now.

* * *

For fear of sounding terribly clichéd, it honestly started on a dark and stormy night. I had been living in my territory for nearly three moons before I became restless. I needed to hunt, to find the greatest prey and take it down, just as my father had before me, and his before that, and so on for generations. Being uncontested as the ruler of an area was fun for a while, but after those three moons the novelty wore off and I moved on. That was the night of the great storm.

The wind was howling all around as I began crossing the Great Barrier, and a light fall of snow began. The clouds were a thick slate grey ceiling above me, and the hard rock below was the same dark shade. The plains stretched out behind me, flat and lifeless this deep into the winter. Nearly no light shone that night on the barren land of cold and wind. It seemed as if the only thing moving in the area that night was me.

And, as I was soon to find out, the only man stupid enough to gaze into the Void and believe it was a smart idea to bring it into this world.

As I reached a notch between two peaks that opened into a shallow valley, my keen ears were able to discern a sound that had not been previously audible against the ever-mounting storm that was clear on its way to becoming a true riot of a blizzard. The sound was soft, guttural chanting, and it sent chills down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold air around me.

At the center of the valley, I saw the man dressed in the clothing of a desert-dweller, but he seemed untouched by the cold around him. An ominous purple glow surrounded him, and the ground around him was bare, even from the snow. He tensed slightly as I drew near, but he did not stop his chanting as it grew to a crescendo. Even to this day, years since then, I can still remember the words, even if I only heard the end of it.

"Alok nol nil. Faan hi nol nil. Nil uroksvaal, Kha'Zix!"

The air rent around him, and a scythe-like blade appeared from the darkness around him. It was followed by a grotesquely humanoid-yet-insectoid purple arm and a similar body, with wings buzzing slightly on its back. It looked to the desert-dweller, and made some obscene clicking, trilling noise. I can only assume it was some sort of "thank you," as the purple-clad man replied to it, "You are welcome, but it is only as my master commands."

Then it turned to me, and I saw the look in its eye. It was one I knew all too well, one I saw every time I saw my own reflection: the look of the predator. The mage quickly vanished, but I did not care. I only had eyes for the disgusting, beautiful creature before me. It was the concept predator given form. I needed to kill it, to prove myself.

A growling chuckle grew in my throat, and I leapt towards the resplendent abomination. It gave a vicious shriek and raised its scythe-like limbs to meet my claws and dagger. It locked my blade between its limbs, and I swung my hand around to rip out its throat, but spikes flew off of it to embed in my skin. I roared out and flinched in pain, and the creature made a series of high-pitched clicks that I could tell was its form of laughter.

We fought long into the night, all across the shallow bowl of the valley it had been summoned in, up the sides of the great peaks, and back down towards the desolate grasslands below. At one point, it would seem that I had the upper hand, but then the beast would turn the tables on me, and the fight would continue with renewed vigour. Eventually, we found ourselves alongside the great rainforest that my earliest memories were formed in, and we plunged in with reckless abandon.

We both used the forest to our advantage, ambushing and breaking away from each other again and again, but the battle was taking its toll on us. I could see it in the monstrosity's slowing movements, but I could also feel it in my own sluggishness and the blood oozing down my arms. I prowled along the bank of a river, when I heard a rustle in the bushes next to me. It was all the warning I got before a blade-arm whistled out of the brush and took my eye. I howled in pain as the white-hot lance of agony drove into my skull, but I still managed to hurl a bola at my adversary. It travelled straight and true to wrap around the dazzling fiend, and its wings crunched pleasingly as I too took my pound of flesh from it.

It writhed on the floor of the jungle in agony, as I did, before managing to wriggle into the river flowing next to us and float away downstream. I had no energy left, and I was forced to stay on the ground, cradling the mangled side of my face. It was the only prey to ever escape me. I found it worthy enough even to declare an honour-war on it, but have been unable to find it in the four years since that fateful day to satisfy my honour.

Until today.

* * *

As soon as I found myself standing in the Arena again, I could sense it. I knew that it was there, just as it knew I was there. A low growl escaped from my throat as I picked up the weapons I would need.

"Rengar?" a soft voice questioned from my left.

"It is here…" I hissed. "Do not interfere, Nidalee. Honour will be satisfied." I loped off towards the jungle at a ground-eating pace.

* * *

I crept silently along the riverbank in the pitiful jungle of the Arena, ears sharp for any signs of the creature. My necklace shifted lightly against my chest, and I cursed myself in my head for allowing it to make any noise. I continued slowly for a few more steps, until a noise caused me to stop. A soft sound, one I would never think twice of had I not been listening for it.

The low hum of wings.

I turned to my right to stare at a bush directly across the river from me. There, among the leaves, I saw the yellow-green eyes of the beast; watching me, preparing to strike. I crouched down on to all fours, preparing myself to leap towards him. My lower body wiggled slowly, tail swaying behind me, just as in the cats I am most likely descended from.

At some unseen signal, we both leapt towards each other. The beautiful creature clicked out its high-pitched laugh, and I answered in kind with a feral roar. My blade trailed behind me, prepared to whip around and skewer the insect mid-flight. I felt the blood rushing in my veins, felt the thrill of our unfinished hunt return. We had risen, each to the challenge of the other, and met at last mid-air above the stream.

The hunt was on.

* * *

And yes, I do realise the second to last scene was originally in the first chapter, but I've retconned it out and put it in this one instead. So deal with it. And now this story is actually done, and I can go back to my other things I should be doing.

As always, R&R. I live for reviews, and I will always - always! - reply to your review if you're logged in and have PMs allowed, even if it's just to thank you for the review.


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